


Where Loved Ones Go To Die

by junipersand



Series: The Other Soul [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Familiar!AU, l'manberg, l'manberg vs dream smp, no romance here, post-tubbo's bees getting murdered by dream, tubbo & bad centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26340709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipersand/pseuds/junipersand
Summary: There's two people in this world you should never piss off.Dream and Sapnap? No. You could at least see the clouds gathering before a storm crashes down.True anger comes from where people least expect it - from the eyes of someone who's powerless to protect the ones they love.
Relationships: Badboyhalo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: The Other Soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914067
Comments: 27
Kudos: 742





	Where Loved Ones Go To Die

“Dream killed my bees, Tommy.”

Surprised, the blond looked up from his half-finished pickaxe, and towards the brunet with a perplexed expression. The teen was sitting by his base’s porch—or what’s left of it—holding a lone torch, the fires burning low, barely illuminating his own face.

“What do you mean, Tubbo?” His boisterous act was nowhere to be seen. As of now, only concern remained; worry for his friend’s thoughts. He didn’t know whether to be scared for Tubbo or be scared _of_ him: the bee-owner’s face was a blank mask, difficult to decipher. “Wasn’t this days ago? Are you still upset about it?”

Tubbo craned his head to his best friend. Tommy braved himself to meet Tubbo’s gaze. A pair of dead, blue eyes stared back at him.

“They were held captive by him.” Tubbo’s voice was monotonous, despite holding so much emotion during the initial tragedy. “He kept them locked in, then today, just _now_ , he threw them into fire. He locked them in a glass cage of fire and killed them.”

The amount of detail in his description genuinely disturbed Tommy. They hadn’t seen the tyrant in days, since the killing of Tubbo’s bees, but he just described his pet’s death like a perfect orchestra. There should be no way he would know of the murder itself, as they hadn’t left each other’s sides since forever. Wherever Tommy went, Tubbo would follow, and vice versa. They practically were inseparable.

“Listen, Tubbo—” Tommy swallowed, reaching for his friend’s shoulder. His body was completely relaxed, sending another warning sign in Tommy’s mind. “You need to move on, for L’Manberg. A war is coming, and everyone needs to be in their top game.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He was never one for comfort, especially in these scenarios. He could barely comprehend the death of Henry—where Sapnap murdered him in cold blood, just like the pets of many others. If he wanted to count the amount of innocent blood that the maniac shed, he’d be here for days with a humungous scroll. Any retaliation would be faced with a price worse than death.

Tubbo didn’t react to Tommy’s comfort. His eyes were trained on the wooden path outside, unblinking.

“I don’t care about L’Manberg,” he said passively. “All I want is that man _dead_.”

Somehow, Tommy knew from the bottom of his heart, that Tubbo was serious.

* * *

“Thank you for gathering here,” Wilbur announced, his voice and tone somber early at the crack of dawn. His eyes were red and his nose puffy, as if he’s spent all night crying with no one but himself. Even with his hands folded behind his back, his spine stood straight, he couldn’t meet anyone’s gazes, and his posture lacked in firmness. Something dire was happening, and they all knew it.

He casted a glance at his significant other, Nikki, who was standing at the front, and took in a deep breath.

“Today,” he continued, expression darkening, “I am here to declare that Fundy is no longer one of us.”

The members of L’Manberg exchanged glances, shooting their heads around to search for their mechanic. No matter how hard they looked, the familiar steampunk cap and tuft of hair was nowhere to be seen. Their leader’s only son wasn’t here, standing by his adoptive father’s side with stride anymore.

They waited, holding their breaths anxiously. Some reacted with anger, their faces red with effort to control themselves; some grieved in silence, wiping away stray tears with the sleeve of their uniform; and some were stone-faced, their cheery expressions vanished without a trace.

This was the first time where they truly lost one of their own.

“Sapnap has asked for his exile,” Wilbur explained, voice cracking. To exile his own son was a decision he would never think that he would ever have to make. But, to prevent a war they cannot afford, it was their only choice. “As a response to Fundy killing his prized fox, this is the compensation he has demanded of us.”

Why? Why didn’t he fight back when Wilbur told him his decision? Why did Fundy nod, pack his things and leave the walls of L’Manberg in the dark of night, whilst everyone was asleep? This wasn’t fair, not one bit. Achieving independence was a price that they could barely afford. Leaving their own flesh and blood was something that they would never forgive.

Wilbur nodded to everyone, adjusting his cap. He was trying to keep it together for their sake, but everyone knew, this wounded him far deeper than anybody else.

* * *

“Bad, you’re not joining the Dream SMP?”

Bad shook his head, sighing. “I told you Skeppy, I don’t like conflict. I’m sorry, bud, but I’m going to have to sit this one out.”

The younger male shrugged, hoisting his sword over his shoulder. “Suit yourself.” He threw his thumb backwards, gesturing towards the direction of the Dream team. He knew better than to pester his friend to join wars that didn’t concern him. This was a fight that was much more personal than a free-for-all. “I’m going to go train with them. Join us if you want to!”

He sprinted towards the others, throwing his hand up to bid his best friend goodbye. Bad smiled brightly, returning with his own enthusiastic wave, watching his blue-hoodie friend disappear into the midst of the chaos of brawl and shields.

Bad’s smile was wiped from his face as he was out of view. He lowered his arm, reached to pull his hood over his face as he left towards the battered wooden path. The floor creaked as it supported his weight, especially noticeable in the night’s eerie quietness.

He stopped when he was deep in a spruce forest, his dark clothing blending in with the trees. The wind howled as the leaves bristled in the breeze, gracing his ears with a soft melody of moonshine and grass.

“I know you’re here,” Bad said, his eyes trailing the bark of a spruce tree. Sure enough, he could see the tip of an orange tail poking from the mass of leaves. “Come down, Fundy.”

Rustles from the branches.

“And why should I trust you?” he demanded, his form still hidden, but his existence exposed. “You’re part of the Dream SMP. What do you want with me?”

Bad, without a word, drew his sword. A shining blade of enchanted diamond, second to netherite, but seemingly lethal in the man’s hands. He could hear Fundy’s surprised cry, but he elected to ignore it. He swung his sword once, and he sliced through the tree’s trunk in one clean cut. The spruce tree began to tip, sliding from its severed trunk, and collapsed sideways.

He caught the fox just before he hit the ground and turned into a Fundy pancake.

“I’m bringing you home.”

Bad sheathed his sword. He then grabbed the kit’s wrist, and dragged him towards the direction of L’Manberg’s borders.

Fundy blinked, too overwhelmed to be struggling against the man’s hold. “Why?” he asked, recognizing the path.

Badboyhalo was known to be a kind soul: easily forgiving and his innocence to behold. But what came out of his mouth was anything but his reputation depicted him to be, his tone dark and words carefully crafted with poison.

“They took what I loved the most.”

* * *

“Fundy!” Tommy cried, shell-shocked that the fox showed up in his base, dripping wet from head-to-toe. He was dressed in pyjamas, his cap hanging loosely by his curls, like he was freshly woken from his sleep. “You’re back! What the fuck?” He turned to Bad, who was standing behind Fundy like the devil. “What the FUCK?”

To his surprise, the adult didn’t tell him off or scream “language!”. Instead, he crossed his arms and nudged Fundy in, all the while inviting him into Tommy’s residence. The floor was now soaked with water and fur, but Tommy had other things to worry about.

“Wilbur told us you were in exile!” Tommy spluttered. “Is this a plan for the war? Are you some secret weapon now?”

Fundy shook his head. “Do you have a spare towel?” he asked, his nose crinkling. “I had to crawl in a river to get here. Eret was patrolling the borders and it was the only way Bad thought of.”

Tommy nodded stupidly, fumbling over his chests in search for a towel. The only one he could find was Tubbo’s, only because the teen had run off to stay with Niki for personal reasons. Tubbo wouldn’t mind if his towel was suddenly covered in a furry’s fur and fish toilet, right? He did not want to find out, but he did it anyway. He passed Fundy the towel, who accepted it graciously.

“First off,” Tommy started, taking steps back as he pointed at Bad, “what is _he_ doing here? Fundy, are you betraying us to join the Dream SMP? Are you here to persuade me to join your stupid SMP?”

“He’s still in exile.” Bad pulled his hood lower. “No one in the SMP can know about this. Tommy, I want you to keep this in the down low. If Sapnap finds out, he’s going to demand something more than exile. He’s going to declare another war.”

Tommy scoffed. “A war that _you_ won’t be in,” he snipped. “You sat out the last one, and every single one of them. You’re just trying to start one because Skeppy is your best friend who also happens to hate me. This war would just be an excuse for you to take over L’Manberg!”

Faced under the teen’s glare, Bad didn’t waver. He was silent, reminding Tommy of how distant Tubbo acted. Bad was behaving the same way, and for some reason, it unsettled him. There was no way that this was a coincidence. The accusations were thrown at him without a second’s notice, but Bad didn’t rush to defend himself, unlike how he would react before.

Instead, Bad reached into his pocket, and pulled out a necklace. The pendant was shaped like a netherite axe, which was the symbol of the official Dream SMP. It dangled as he held the tip of the chain, glinting under the torchlight. It was the symbol they all feared to see.

Bad threw the necklace to the ground and shattered the pendant with his sword. The tip of his weapon stabbed into the ground, creating a fracture in Tommy’s floor, but he didn’t care, and neither did Fundy. They stared at the half-demon with wide eyes, with Tommy hyperventilating as he scrambled to get himself in uniform.

* * *

Bad stroked the brunet’s hair gently, pulling him into a warm embrace. The younger’s arms were wrapped around his chest, his tears soaking through his clothes. “I’m really sorry, Tubbo.” He closed his eyes, feeling the teen’s body tremble as he sobbed for the death of his familiar. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to stop Dream. If I’d known earlier, I’d do everything in my power to stop him.”

Tubbo shook his head, burying it further into the adult’s chest. “It’s not your fault,” he choked. “Bad, please, don’t say that. It’s not your fucking fault.”

The adult didn’t reprimand him on his language. He let the younger cry into his chest, rubbing soothing circles on his back. They were at Tommy’s base, sitting under the tree of Tubbo’s familiar’s memorial, the empty beehive that would house no more familiars.

“Do you feel alright, Tubbo?” Bad wisped. “I know it’s hard,” he continued, opening his eyes to a broken path. “I know how it feels.”

Tubbo paused, looking up to the adult. “What do you mean… _I know how it feels_?” he demanded, voice cracking. His eyes misted up again, realizing the truth of the situation. “Oh, god, Bad… when?”

Bad shook his head. “Months ago,” he muttered. “He’s a horse. His name is Roberto.”

From Bad’s shadow, Tubbo noticed a dark figure lingering on Bad’s shoulder, like a spirit. He didn’t know what happened to spirits after they died. He only knew that a part of his soul would die along with his familiar, but it looks to him that they weren’t fully gone, either.

“Don’t worry,” Bad said. Tubbo sat beside him, hugging his knees. “Our familiar never leaves us. They just take new forms and stick around, even after death.”

Tubbo looked closer. Bad wasn’t supposed to have red eyes. The figure over his shoulder grew larger, independent of its owner, taking the form of a horse made of darkness. Now, it stood on the wooden path in its full glory of shadow and gloom, its blood red eyes meeting Tubbo’s.

In a puddle among the grass, Tubbo saw his own face. His eyes were no longer sapphire, but a toxic shade of green.

Bad stood, stroking the mane of the shadowy horse. It emitted black mist from its hooves and mane.

“They know what we want.”

A black bee settled on Tubbo’s palm, buzzing as its dark green eyes glowed in the dark.


End file.
